Warning
by Hitsuiro Issa
Summary: Denial, a good shower, and warning bells. Not Vergil's preference in the morning, but he can live with that. Not yaoi. Just a short Vergil oneshot, thought meme I think- with some colorful language here and there.


Warning

A/N: A really short Vergil oneshot. It's some sort of thought meme, anyway- nothing visual, nothing bloody, nothing erotically charged. Just Vergil. In the shower. Wahahahaha! 8D

-

It's terribly comfortable staying like this, in the mercy of heat and damp.

It's the romantic pitter-patter of water and the deafening rush of water that keeps him elated, surprised, awake. He thinks, for a moment, that he's actually drowning, but keeps it to himself as he opens an eye and observes from behind a thick lock of moon-silver hair. It's the white tiles he sees first, damp with water flowing down it gently as if frightened to fall all the way, and then the metal knobs and his hands. He realizes his hands were bracing the wall, and he's leaning too far in, and any normal person would find it rather dirty and somewhat homosexual, but Vergil is straight for God's sake and it's a normal thing for a person to lean on a wall this way if he's too weak, or something.

Why he felt weak was beyond him, however, and with a small grunt he pushes away from the wall, and leans back on the one behind him, muscles and wet skin sliding softly against the tiles. He's long prided himself for his outside appearance- countless had complimented, without need of a threat of death or a sword, and there even were a few shy looks and fluttering of long eyelashes, and lingering glances from doe-eyed pretties. Sometimes demons- succubae, particularly- would tell him that he was gorgeous, and Dante was as well, just as their father had been. He usually brushed those kinds of compliments off, though- anything that had something to do with Dante was scorned off, frowned upon.

He brings a hand through his hair, and at the corner of his eye does he see the likeness of their features, hair and face and mouth and all, and he wants more than ever to step out of the shower and dry his mane, just to restore it's usual spiky condition and to rid away the image of a twin Dante.

But they're still twins, and he's aware of that, and he hates it- hates the way he sees himself and thinks it's his brother in the mirror, hates the feeling that gushes through him that ends with the mirror crashed and scattered on the floor, and his hand bleeding, and well. It seems so delirious, and it probably is.

And sometimes he's not angry at all, that he sees his reflection and sighs tiredly at finding upon it his brother's doppelganger again with a blue coat and a stern gaze, and almost admits that's he stuck with it, and he's not happy at all.

And for always it serves as a warning, a bit of bitter truth- that someday only one son of Sparda will remain, will rule, and not two. Because two is bothersome and human- one is supreme. He prays, although he knows, it's him who'll remain.

He's finished with a long rinse, and he shuts the tap off and brings the towel to his face- hastily drying his hair, and turns to the mirror, to arrange it up again. In one smooth motion he's standing as Vergil in front of the full-body mirror, stark naked but Vergil nonetheless, and he almost smiles at the familiarity of him and not the familiarity of his brother, and it's really rare because he doesn't smile and because he's most of the time angry at his image anyway (since he's still a twin), and that makes up all the omens and warnings he's going to get today.

Boxers, pants, boots and his top- and after another comforting sweep at his spiky silver mane, he takes his coat from the rack and dons it, satisfied with the rustling of fabric and the comforting tightness of his pants. And his whole clothing, of course (he's almost tempted to call Dante a cocksucker, and almost tempted to force his own brother down and laugh at the pathetic look of 'oh god no-' in his eyes, and it's really nothing to be rated about, since Dante's a wuss and a pussy and god he's never imagined anything so dirty in his entire life, so he shuts the train of thought. Quickly). And he straps his sword, his Katana called 'Yamato', and he feels somewhat exalted and all the more enticed to run out and get the job over and done with. Arkham is waiting, presumably, before the dark tower called Temeni-gru; once he enters the place he knows he'd meet his brother, and finish him off once and for all, grab the damned necklace that his father had given his twin and get to Hell for his father's sword. It's a perfect plan, and seeing everything was set and likely to get going, he leaves the room.

He ignores the echoing of warning bells in his head.

-

A/N: I told you guys: it's short. It's not even past 800 words. But I did say it was NOT erotically charged, and it's really not, just a few dirty thoughts here and there- god, Vergil's still a guy, and I've known all my life how guys think. Not because I am one, no, but because a friend of mine says what he thinks and thinks over what he says.

Isn't Vergil yummilicious? I prefer him to Dante, honestly, mostly because my sister's got hold of the devil hunter. Haha. I wish I could have them both, though, think of all the smexy fun we'll be having- (is bricked here) anyway.

Written in the time span before Vergil invades Temeni-gru, so it's vague and conceited, but I love Vergil and Dante like that, and it's nice to add some rated things in it. Woohoo, cocksucker. This is not, however, a yaoi fic, and I don't really like DantexVergil because I'd rather them straight, but maybe in the future I would write a little bit of that. Nothing romantic though, just "let's have sex because we're brothers and we're totally naked and bored". (bricked again)

Time to cut the chit-chat, and time to go. Thanks all for reading, hope you enjoyed it- and reviews are always welcome. So do me a really big and loving favor and REVIEW. Love you guys. xD

Sincerely,

Hitsuiro Issa


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